Part 4

Coronado, CA
March 11, 2000
2:30 P.M.


"Hello, Mrs. Johnson," Scully said as she walked through 
the doors of the rather small ranch-style house.

"Dana. You look exactly the same. Exactly. Come on in, 
Victoria is in the living room."

'Mothers,' Scully thought. They could lie through their 
teeth and still manage to pull off the flawless Betty 
Crocker routine. 

Scully knew she wasn't anything like the high school 
girl Mrs. Johnson remembered and, as she glanced toward 
the couch, she saw the passage of time was even more 
pronounced in her old schoolmate.

Victoria was fragile. She never seemed fragile in her 
entire life. A walker was set up next to her on the 
couch. Her pale features were almost completely dwarfed 
by the sheer volume of brown hair which, while long, was 
decidedly thin and unhealthy. When she smiled, however, 
time disappeared. 

"Dana! Well, look at you, the FBI's finest. Come, sit 
with me." Scully took a seat next to Victoria and a 
rather huge gray cat. The cat stared at her with a look 
that Scully could not identify but which automatically 
put her in mortal fear for her new pair of nylons.

"This is Gwendolyn. Once she realized who the hell I 
was--she has not left my side for more than five 
minutes. Gwendolyn--my old pal, Dana."

Gwendolyn gave Scully a blank stare.

"I think she likes you," Victoria said with enthusiasm.

 

"So--well, you know why I'm here, Victoria. First, I'm 
very sorry for everything that has happened but since it 
seems to have happened to two other classmates--well, 
you understand the need for me to delve into this 
further than is, perhaps, my business."

"I have nothing to hide. Not anymore. Fire away."

"Okay. What do you remember about the night you went 
into the coma--or do you remember it?"

"I remember. The alcohol was beginning to have an effect 
on my health. I felt sick a lot. I had been in a very 
bad mood that day, and came home to a phone call that 
upset me. I don't know why it did. I mean, it was about 
an old friend with marital problems--but, it was second-
hand information through another friend and I hadn't 
seen the woman in question for years. I think it was the 
alcohol playing havoc with my nerves, too.

I was trying to eat Chinese take-out, guzzle booze and 
talk on the phone. Multi-tasking, as usual." She smiled 
softly. "After I hung up, I started to feel sick. I had 
been vomiting so much lately that I just went to the 
bathroom and got into position in front of the old 
porcelain bus. But, I felt something running down my 
face. My nose had started to bleed. Dana--I never had a 
nosebleed in my entire life. It scared the hell out of 
me. I couldn't get it to stop at all. I don't know when 
it eventually did and I don't know when I passed out but 
after I woke up I had something new to be upset about 
because Gwendolyn was walking around and I didn't want 
her to walk on the mess I had made. So, I got up. I 
think--I had to answer the phone. Yeah, I did. And, 
then--well, I cleaned up the bathroom, took a shower, 
took a drink and fell asleep."

"And, then…"

"I had a strange sensation. Like being in an out of 
control elevator. Going down really fast. And then--a 
lot of wailing and heat. I just remember burning and 
thinking--somewhere in the back or front of my mind--
isn't this funny? I'm in hell--just like the phone call 
said."

Scully looked up sharply.

"The phone call?"

"Yeah-when I went to answer the phone, it was a prank 
call. Someone said something about me being in hell and 
I thought it was ironic because that's exactly what it 
felt like. My life, I mean."

"Male or female?"

"Female."

"Did she identify you by name?"

"I really don't remember, Dana. Is it important?"

"No--I don't know. Continue your story."

"Well--at first, I thought this was just the mother of 
all nightmares. I was trying to wake up, but couldn't. 
And slowly, it changed."

"How?"

"Well, the burning subsided a bit and the wailing 
stopped. Everything got very quiet and I felt completely 
and absolutely alone. But I knew I wasn't. And I just 
suddenly knew where I was. It was purgatory. And I was 
being given a choice. To stay there and atone for my 
sins or go back. And, Dana--there was no choice for me. 
I can't say my motives were pure. They were not. It's 
not that I even had a great need to be forgiven for  
sins I didn't even realize I had committed. No, it 
wasn't that at all. My life was hell. Purgatory was a 
step up. So I stayed."

Scully frowned.

"But you weren't dead."

"I wasn't alive either. I know it's trite, Dana--but, 
that bottle meant everything. My entire fucking life 
revolved around it. That's not living."

"And then what happened?"

Victoria's green eyes went wide and her famous humor and 
smile kicked in again.

"You don't believe a word I'm saying. Well, you can 
check the medical records. No brain damage, according to 
medical tests. And I'll take more if you want."

"Vicky, you have to admit…"

"I know, I do. But, I can only tell you what I 
experienced. Okay--let me just get on with this. I 
stayed in purgatory. The burning and wailing came back 
but amidst all the pain, there was hope. I was suffering 
for a reason. Life was waiting for me on the other side, 
and I'd be able to live it with a fresh start. I knew 
this. The knowledge was given to me. You know, it's not 
like we thought in school. I never really felt it was as 
much God's judgment on me as my own judgment on myself. 
We make up our minds about when we feel our sins are 
burned away. And when I felt that--truly felt that--I 
just woke up."

Scully tried to keep a completely neutral expression on 
her face.  It was very 
difficult. Victoria reached out and grabbed Scully's 
arm. 

"Go, Dana. Look at my records, repeat the tests. Help 
the other girls, if you can. But I really think they are 
exactly where they need to be. I don't know how we got 
there but it's not such a horrible thing. Because now--
I'm free. I'm not in hell anymore. I have my cat and my 
house--my family. Sooner or later, I'll get back my 
strength. The best thing is, there is no demon at my 
heels. That's a pretty good deal, as far as I'm 
concerned."

Scully closed the front door behind her.  Mulder was 
already waiting in the car. Shit. She thought he'd be  
late and she'd have some time to herself. They had 
agreed that Victoria would be more forthcoming with an 
old friend than with a stranger and Mulder needed to 
pick up copies of medical charts from all three women. 
She had no idea he'd be done so soon.

Purgatory. The final purification of the elect before 
entering the kingdom of heaven. The cleansing fire that 
burns away one's sins. She had been a very intelligent 
girl. All through school, she had questioned what was 
unknown to her. Researched until she found the answers 
that satisfied her. But she had never wanted to delve 
into this topic. It had frightened her on a gut level. 
Her grandmother had recently died, and the thought of 
her burning instead of enjoying the fruits of the labors 
of her life chilled her to the bone. It never jelled 
with her vision of God.  She had memorized the catechism 
definition, passed her religion test by quoting it 
verbatim and never really thought about it much since.

 "Hey," she said as she got in the car, "you got them."

"Absolutely. Every last one."

"Thanks. Did you set up the other interviews?"

"Yes. Actually, we'll be going straight to Elaine 
Chandler's house. She's home and being taken care of by 
nurses specializing in comatose patients. Crystal 
Wahlberg's husband will see us tomorrow. He's still 
training someone to take over his job. Temporarily, he 
hopes."

"It must be tough on the finances," Scully said.

"I would imagine."

They drove in silence as the California sun filtered 
through the windows. Mulder had not asked about her 
interview with Victoria, knowing she would tell him in 
her own time. Knowing there was something to tell.

They pulled up in front of a modest two-family home in 
San Diego. The front door was open and a huge wheelchair 
that looked more like a partially raised bed on wheels 
was being delivered. Mulder squeezed past the delivery 
men and presented his badge. Scully followed.

Mark Chandler soon joined them in the living room. He 
was thin and had the look of someone who never slept. 

"Sorry, sorry. We just brought Elaine home a couple of 
days ago and we're still getting a lot of equipment in 
here. This thing is supposed to be good for getting her 
out of bed and putting her in front of the television or 
something. Not that she can watch but they feel. . .it's 
some form of stimulation."

He didn't sound as if he believed it at all.

Mulder gave him a reassuring smile and sat next to 
Scully on the couch.

"Sir, if you could please go over the events of the day 
your wife slipped into a coma. . ."

"I've gone over them many times. It was an absolutely 
ordinary day. She went to bed and I couldn't wake her 
up. Nothing worked. I called an ambulance and they 
rushed her to the hospital. They asked me if she was on 
medication--she was not. They asked me if she had any 
diseases--no, she did not. Trauma, head injury, abuse. . 
.nothing.  She just went to sleep and never woke up."

"Was she upset about something recently?" Scully asked. 
A shadow passing over Mark's face gave her the answer.

"She--we--had recently lost a baby. Our third 
miscarriage in less than 3 years. It happened about two 
months before her coma and Elaine was still very upset. 
I was trying to approach the subject of trying again, 
thinking that would give her some hope, but she just 
didn't seem to have the spirit anymore. I couldn't blame 
her but it's like it took over her every waking thought. 
Nothing else mattered. This 'failure,' she seemed to 
think, was all hers."

"Sir, was there any phone call that you know of--a crank 
call--that she might have received that day?" Scully 
asked and Mulder threw her a quick look.

"Crank call? I have no idea. I worked late. I only got 
home about ten that evening and we went to bed at 
eleven. She didn't mention anything. Why?"

"Just looking for possible connections."

After a few more routine questions they were led into 
Elaine's room. They walked into the room and were 
startled by a bright, overpowering light. When they 
could focus, they saw a nurse flashing a 650-watt light 
bulb into the open eyes of Elaine Chandler.

"Aren't you blinding her with that?" Mulder asked, 
shielding his own eyes from the painful light.

"No, actually. . .it's designed to stimulate activity in 
certain parts of the victim's brain." The young nurse 
turned off the glaring light and stood up to shake the 
agents' hands. 

"Have you had any success thus far?" Scully asked.

"We're not sure yet. She does swallow so we've been able 
to take her off the feeding tube. Manual feedings are 
supplemented with the IV. We also give her physical 
therapy for at least an hour a day. . .more, usually. 
Then, we have the light therapy and there are other  
tests we perform to gauge her automatic reactions. So 
far, they've yielded very little. But that's not exactly 
unusual. It can take up to six months to see results."

Scully walked over and looked into Elaine's open eyes. 
There was no life in them. She looked rather pretty 
lying back against the pillows. Peaceful. Like a life-
sized doll. A Sleeping Beauty doll. She was sure this 
was not a comfort to her husband. Any more than it would 
have been a comfort for Mulder to see her this way. The 
thought of Mulder's pain sent a palpable wave of despair 
through her.  Even more than seeing a childhood 
acquaintance in this sad state.  It was sometimes 
difficult knowing she was, in large part, responsible 
for Mulder's happiness.

She turned and touched his hand.

"Come on, Mulder. Let's go."


Days Inn Motel
San Diego, CA
10 P.M.

"I'm not sure what I'm looking for," Mulder said as he 
looked over some medical tests.

"Right now--anything that is in the abnormal range. Just 
highlight it and I will go over everything after you are 
done. But I have to say that on initial reading, there 
really is nothing there."

"That's what I thought. Face it, Scully, we are dealing 
with something that is not going to be found in these 
charts."

"Where is it supposed to be found? In crank calls? In 
purgatory?" 

"You tell me. I know very little about purgatory."

No, of course he didn't. Ask him about some weird 
ritualistic cult in the jungles of the Amazon and he'd 
have volumes of information. But information about one 
of the oldest and largest organized religions in the 
world, and he came up blank. And expected her to fill in 
the gaps. She was just his local Catholic expert. What 
really irked her is on this particular subject, she 
couldn't give him more than a textbook definition and a 
very personal, highly biased opinion. And that's where 
the information stopped. 

"I don't want to discuss religion with you, Mulder."

"Okay. I think we should start a new rule book. I don't 
want to talk about your ex-boyfriends. You don't want to 
talk about religion. Anything else?"

She put down the chart she was reading and glared at 
him. 

"There is no discussion about religion, Mulder. Not with 
you. I can't talk to you about it because I find myself 
strictly on the defensive. I can never tell you exactly 
what I believe, what I have doubts about because I know 
you will use it in your diatribe condemning my faith in 
its entirety. There. Does that spell out my reasons for 
you clearly enough?"

He continued to look at her without much change in his 
expression.

"I'm trying to change, Scully."

"Why? Because sex has entered the equation?"

That seemed to have an effect. Since they had started 
this new phase of their relationship, he had never  
referred to it as 'just' sex. She hadn't referred to it 
in words at all.

"Sex entered the equation, as you say, because a firm 
foundation was built first. A foundation built on mutual 
respect. I've come to realize a lot about myself in the 
past year. When my mother died, I realized I knew 
nothing about her. And I knew very little about my 
father, too. And yet, they were supposed to be people I 
loved. I want to know and understand everything about 
you. I know I've been closed-off about some things in 
the past, but I am trying to change. I'm not about to 
throw myself into a vat of holy water and get baptized 
but I would like to try to understand some of what you 
believe."

She narrowed her eyes. It was a reasonable request.

"Well, I have to warn you of one thing.  I'm not out to 
convert you but if you make one smart-assed comment, all 
discussion is off. I will no longer waste my time in 
this manner."

"Fine. Tell me about purgatory."

"I don't believe I was in purgatory."

"No. I mean, tell me what you were taught about 
purgatory. What you believe it to be."

She took a deep breath. How she hated this subject.

"Okay. I have to go into a little background. On the 
surface, the Catholic Church tends to be somewhat 
dogmatic." She smiled to herself. Perhaps that was an 
understatement.  "While it can be constricting to some, 
there is a certain beauty in the order of it all. There 
is beauty in its traditions--its ceremonies. But as I 
grew older I found myself disagreeing with certain 
tenets of the Church. I'm not my sister, I didn't leave 
it to pursue my own spiritual path and I didn't discard 
the religion in its entirety over a few issues I have. 
But I do question things and I've come to realize that 
this questioning has deepened my commitment to my own 
spirituality, if that makes any sense to you. "

"It does."

"Purgatory is one of those issues. Essentially, I was 
taught that it was a place where people who are saved 
will go in preparation for their entrance into heaven. 
It has been depicted as a place of holy fire where your 
sins are burned away."

"And you don't believe in this?"

"I have a hard time reconciling it with my vision of a 
loving, forgiving God. I find the extreme punishment to 
be in great conflict with this vision. I have a very 
hard time picturing my father or Melissa having to atone 
for anything. I want to picture them happy in whatever 
afterlife there is. Not burning over using swear words 
or eating meat on Fridays."

Mulder bit his lip and said nothing. Scully sighed.

"And, no. . .I don't believe those things are sins, 
Mulder. But what if I'm wrong? What if there is a 
purgatory and that is exactly what we're atoning for?"

"That's not what your friend said. She said you decide 
what is keeping you back and what your punishment should 
be. Right?"

"That is what she said."

"But you don't believe her?"

"I don't know. Do I believe she was actually in 
purgatory? Well, that would mean I was, too. If only for 
a few minutes. And yet, I had no knowledge of that 
experience  being anything but a really lousy, scary 
dream. There was no great revelation delivered to me. "

"That's because you didn't actually go into a  coma."

"All right. Then why didn't I?"

"Victoria had a horrible life. She said so herself. 
Elaine was grieving over her miscarriages. You just 
never know what troubles people have. And maybe, you 
don't feel all that troubled at this juncture in yours."

She smirked.

"Because I'm finally 'getting some'?"

Mulder's face fell a bit. He didn't expect her to fully 
acknowledge her feelings on the nature of their 
relationship, but he didn't expect her to reduce it to 
its basest level, either. It was a defense mechanism but 
unlike other times in his life, he was not going to 
allow that type of relationship to flourish. He was not 
going to be the moony, "in-love" partner while she 
suggested she was in it for the physical release. That 
wasn't the truth.  They went into this partnership as 
equals and equals they would stay. 

For the first time since they became lovers, he did not 
want to be with her at that moment. He needed his space.

"Yeah. Everyone knows that 'getting some' is the be all 
and end all of everything. Right?"

He picked himself up and started cleaning off the 
remnants of their meal. They had put their suitcases in 
one room but he picked his up and headed toward the 
connecting door of the second room they booked.
 
"I'm just going to grab a shower and re-read this stuff. 
Then I'm going to sleep. Thanks for the religion 
lesson."

"Mulder. . ."

"You need anything else?"

"No. Go ahead."

He didn't come back. She really didn't expect him to. 
She heard his television go on sometime after the water 
stopped running and then saw the light go out under the 
door. Screw the FBI. They should have gotten the one 
room in spite of how it would look on the expense 
report. Then they'd be forced to deal with things. Well, 
she'd be forced to deal with them. She was scared, and 
upset over yet another horrible thing that could have 
happened and used the excuse of an old slight to play 
with a new weapon. She should go to him and talk. Tell 
him that she really did love him more than anyone. . 
.ever. 

Well, maybe not. Maybe there had been too much 
togetherness over the last few days. Take a step back 
before another one forward. They led two separate lives 
for a very long time. Togetherness took adjustment. 



She wasn't in hell. Nowhere near it. When all was said 
and done, if purgatory did exist, she was sure she would 
have some things she had to settle before going on to 
the next phase of being. But, for now, she was as far 
away from purgatory or hell as she could be. The only 
thing keeping her from fully enjoying it were the little 
walls she insisted on rebuilding every time one 
crumbled. 

End Part 4
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